BONES ON BONES
by Trekkie Lizard
Summary: Bones, Kirk, and Tucker OC go on a mission together and get more than they bargained for. SETTING: Post-2009 movie, randomly adventuring into the void of space and exploring new worlds! It has friendship and a sprinkling of humor. NO SLASH!
1. We're not in Kansas anymore Toto

**A/N: **I know, I know. What's this? TrekkieLizard has struck again? As usual, I don't own anyone except my pet OC's and even then his face claim is Jared Padalecki and he's the nephew of Admiral Charles Tucker from NX-01. If you get lost or have questions, feel free to ask. Please R&R because I am trying to shake off cobwebs. I love everyone! *hands out cookies and brownies*

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Bones rather enjoyed his nickname. Because his wife – no, she was his ex-wife now – had taken everything from him in the divorce. That divorce felt like it had shattered him in some way. Something deep inside had broken and he was unsure of how to fix it. All through the academy with Jim he had seen the younger man going after young women one after another. Bones was the one who would wait in the apartment or casually find something else for him to be doing – like studying at the library. Of course, it was thanks to Jim that he was able to finish his psychiatry degree. He already had his medical degree before the two met, but now he had an additional one to lean on. Then again, neither man particularly took any stock in such things. It was good to have in case it was needed. In space, things like that could be useful anyway. He could definitely see how it could be useful around Jim – the man was a walking, talking case study in his own right. But that was something for another time, another paper. Although he could make good use of his time on the ship by writing a paper. Goodness knew he had seen things most doctors could only dream of being on this ship.

His nickname was, though, rather well deserved. Yes, she left him with nothing but his 'bones', but there was another reason he figured the name was rather appropriate. His star patient, Captain Kirk. Yes, his friend Jim became his patient almost the exact same day the two had met on that transport ship. Aside from Bones wanting to hide in the bathroom all the way there because he knew he would be getting sick anyway, the two had actually hit it off quite well. Leo – although no one called him that anymore – rather enjoyed the companionship of the other man. He went from having no real friends and knowing basically … no one … to having a really close friend on whom he could mostly rely. Bones had also turned into a walking medical chart for his friend – what with all his allergies, it would take at least a large book to actually write everything out. Maybe he was being a bit overdramatic at the thought, but probably not. It was a rather realistic type of consideration because of the things the man was allergic to. Almost anything they put into hypos these days, Jim was allergic to. Everything from anti-allergic medications to simple antibiotics. Painkillers … the list literally did go on and on.

Bones. He was the resident 'saw-bones' of the _Enterprise_. Now, he rather disliked that sort of name. Saw-bones implied using rather old tools, something used when there were cowboys and Indians across the plains. A small scowl formed on his lips before he licked them – dry. His entire mouth was as if cobwebs had grown there overnight. He was the bone setter for the Captain – no, Jim. It was as if the man had a personal doctor … a concierge doctor. Now if only Bones was paid all that well, then maybe it would really be quite the thought. His mouth was dry but the very corner of his lip was moist. He had noticed that a moment ago. Licking again stiffly, Bones discovered it had a metallic taste to it. Iron … he was bleeding. He forced his eyes open; the entire room was near pitch black. "Lights," he ordered the non-existent computer, trying to sit up and ascertain why he had been lying on his back for so long. Perhaps it was a matter of working out in the gym and he had been knocked unconscious. In which case … someone from his staff should have been with him. Namely because he could not remember working out, thus he probably had a concussion. That would explain the strange twinge behind his eyes anyway.

"Bones."

His name was being called from somewhere at the edges of his vision. He never really did like the dark very much. He did not take much stock in people saying they had good night vision, either. A small blue glow eminated from the area where the voice had come. He worked on figuring out who the voice was. Most likely, it was Jim. If he had really been sparring, then it was probably with that blockhead. Although honestly, he did not see taking the man on in any sort of fight because he was good with his hands. Then again, Spock might have been a bit better. It was a matter of their training styles, Leo supposed. Why had the lights not come on by now? He tried pushing himself up again, keeping his eyes closed tightly as he moved so his head would not swim near as much. What was going on around here? Had something happened to the ship's energy supply or something? That would be his luck, the power to the deck going out after he was knocked out in a sparring fight with Jim or something stupid. Joy. But a sudden hiss changed his mind on a brief sparring fight. There were safeties built into that room and Jim would never really hurt his friend intentionally. "Jim?" He asked hesitantly, a figure moving to his side in an instant, helping him lean against a wall.

"Bones, you're awake!"

The voice was hushed, thankfully, but it also held something else. As if the man – who hated tricorders anyway – had been worried for his friend. Leo patted himself and produced a tricorder from his bag that was still hanging across his frame. Strange, if he had been sparring, then that was the first thing that would have come off. There was no wanting to have yet another one fixed, anyway. After Nurse Chapel took care of a drunken security officer, who broke three tricorders in the process, Leo was perfectly fine with taking extra special care with the ones he had left. Perhaps they were on some away mission, then. He needed to make sure everyone was alright. Jim would probably be torn and tattered yet again if there was some sort of fight involved. Wait a minute, what exactly did happen here? This wall he thought was in a room on the ship was anything but. It was hard, bumpy, some kind of natural rock. Perhaps they were in a cave, then. It was definitely not near as cold as Delta Vega, thankfully. He moved a hand to his lip and followed the trail of blood to his hairline. Ah, that was just lovely. Something ripped beside him, something that sounded like some kind of cloth material. It was then shaken and wrapped around his head. Where was his medical kit? That was probably an easy fix of a laceration.

"Tucker is pretty bad off too."

What was Jim going on about? Oh, someone else was hurt! Leo tried to push himself up, falling back against the hard rocks with a solid thud against his back. He groaned to himself and coughed a bit to catch his breath. His chest felt like it had been crushed, as if some sort of rather large creature sat on it for a while. As if maybe Jim was sitting on it. He moved his hand across his torn uniform blue shirt with a pained sigh. It was probably mostly bruises, but it would feel better later. Tucker … the name was very familiar. On the first _Enterprise_ to fly into space, the NX-01, there was a Commander Charles Tucker – now Admiral or something like that. He was an engineer, but Jim could not have meant that man unless they had traveled back in time or something insane like that because last he heard, Admiral – or whatever – Tucker had been with his wife in Florida somewhere, recruiting and teaching. That was sweet, he supposed. How could his mind remember that and not remember what had happened in the past few minutes. With his chest hurting this bad, though, it had probably been more than a few minutes. There had to be some other Tucker, then, that Jim was referring to. "Tucker …?" He asked, knowing full well his dry lips were still half-stuck together.

"Lieutenant Tucker, he's a science officer under Spock, remember? Something's wrong with him."

If Bones was injured and this Lieutenant Tucker fellow was also injured, then where did Kirk stand? If Bones was injured, then surely Kirk was much, much worse off. The man did seem to attract the bullies who could throw him around. He worked his eyes open again as they became vaguely more acclimated to the light in the room – or cave. Bones looked up at his friend, who was kneeling beside him and hesitantly glancing back behind himself. Perhaps he had been afraid to move either Bones or this Tucker fellow closer to each other. Bones would have to get closer to see what was going on with him. Hell, to even see he needed actual light, not this glowing phone or whatever it was that was emitting the almost sickly blue glow. He was grumpy, thirsty, and needed to take on that old saying of 'physician, heal thyself'. However, priority one was figuring out who all was in here and making sure they were alright. His legs had long since been asleep – so clearly it was not just a few minutes – and he desperately wiggled his toes in a mad attempt to regain control over his legs again. Kirk looked fine outwardly, but he was not so sure. "What about you, Jim?" He asked, his voice perhaps a bit more concerned and friendly than normal. Not that he was not normally friendly around Jim, but on away missions and in front of crewmembers, it was more of a formal affair.

"I'm fine, they hit me with some kind of knock out dart from behind. You need to ask them what it was because I was out like a light with no adverse reactions!"

Ask them what it was? Ask them what it was! Sure, sure, Bones would put that on his to do list, right after figuring out what the hell had happened here! Kirk could have died! Where was he during all of this? Looking more carefully at his friend as the thought of losing him made his chest tighten more, he realized his friend at been fighting. Perhaps whomever it was had gotten the 'drop' on the away team and he tried to protect Lieutenant Tucker and himself. That was rather sweet of Jim to do that, but also rather unnecessary. Pieces were starting to fall back into place, or he thought they were in the least. Because of some strange mission now he was a patient in the hands of his own chronic patient – Captain James T. Kirk. Oh heaven help him, he was going to die. Buried in some sort of tiny cave on some forgotten planet in the middle of nowhere Beta Quadrant. This was beyond great, it was sarcastically brilliant now. At least, though, he would not die alone. Wrapping an arm around his tender mid section before rubbing a hand slowly up his chest, Leo dared to let out a painful sigh. What was to come next?

Would their would be captors come back and offer up empty, cheap threats? Would Lieutenant Tucker be alright? He needed to ensure Kirk really had no reaction to whatever they had given the poor man. He needed to be at Tucker's side and ensuring the man's safety. He needed to do those nurse-type things where they actually attempted to help the patient, calm them down. Hell, he never did that. He was rather honest with his patients; tell them when it was going to hurt like hell so they could brace themselves. On the most part that was Jim, because there were only about two pain medications he was not allergic to, or so it seemed. Things were rather quite here, in this room. Something else was bound to happen. Something would break the silent reverie. And there it was. A scream from behind Jim had Leo pull away from the wall, sitting straight up and hissing under his breath with the movement. Had that come from Lieutenant Tucker?


	2. Snap, crackle, pop oh great

**A/N:** Thank you Lee for the lovely review of the first chapter! Hello all you who signed up for the alerts / just finding this now! I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I invented Samuel Tucker for a website I'm on, z7 . invisionfree . com /infinity_and_beyond where Lee and I are administrators. However, I really like the character and thought I would throw him in here. Now to get down to the angst! Oh, and if any of you know a lot about medicine and stuff … pardon my assumptions / inventions / whatever. I still don't own the Enterprise gang. If I did, I would not be on Earth typing this right now.

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Samuel Elias Tucker. He was named after Samuel Houston, which seemed appropriate considering he was definitely Texan born and bred. However, the last name also held weight in Starfleet because it was from his father's side of the family, his father's brother being Charles Tucker of the infamous NX-01 … _Enterprise_. He was the first Tucker to really go into space, and here was the second. Yes, serving as a generic science officer – alright, not completely generic because he specialized in chemistry and physics, namely optics – aboard the grand old ship had been a rather interesting joy ride. He had not been there during the Nero incident, rather doing a few other things as a young Ensign on another one of the very few ships Starfleet really had left anymore. However, his transfer request finally came through! He had wanted to be on the new flagship ever since his uncle first started telling stories of the original _Enterprise_. He was fairly certain she was in some sort of junk pile somewhere. Alright, perhaps not necessarily a junk pile, but a museum. He was not sure because he had been too busy keeping his head down and working through school to think to look that random bit of family history up.

Life on the _Enterprise_ had not lasted very long before he was put on this away team. He would have thought he needed to be around a little longer before having that kind of responsibility. Perhaps his previous captain had written him a good recommendation. He hoped for the sake of things it was not because of his uncle's position in Starfleet and his last name basically gaining awe from every engineer he passed. Honestly, Sam knew little to nothing about engineering. He knew how to take care of his console at his station and that was about it. Consoles weren't even all that complicated. He was more of a software man than a hardware man, but when asked to go on a mission with the captain and chief medical officer, he simply jumped at the chance! What he should have realized was that the Tucker luck was really quite inherited. His uncle had gotten into more trouble than he really should talk about during family dinners – and about eighty percent of that trouble happened on away missions. But there was the rub. How could he deny the askance of his commanding officer! The answer was that he simply could not.

He blinked the water away, feeling it quite embarrassing under the circumstances. His hand was sticky with blood as he moved to get a better angle on his wound. Compound fracture of the lower area of his femur and there felt like there might be something else going on. Every time he tried to shift on his hips to get a better position where he was propped up, something was grinding in his hip. That definitely could not be a good sign. He blinked again, trying to stay focused. Sam could hear the captain talking, what was he saying? Sam was not that great with his hands, but he had tried to put up a fight. It felt like a buffalo had trampled him, though. His entire right thigh felt like it was swelling to capacity – or whatever amount of fluid he had in him was being diverted to the area. He licked his lips, wishing the intense pressure and pain would just go away already. With his free, wrapped hand, Sam pushed some hair out of his eyes with a sigh and tried to focus on the interchange across from him. Walters from security had not been lucky enough to survive the encounter. He had come with them down to the surface, but they had killed him. For some reason the rest of them were alive … for now.

What was it with red shirts, anyway? No, that was just a silly tall tale.

The scream was a bit unexpected. Even for him. When Sam had tried shifting again gently, his hand slipped out from under himself and he landed hard on his injured hip. A hip injury was not good under any condition, much less letting most of your weight slam down on a fractured femoral head. Not that anyone realized that was what was going on under the skin yet. Captain Kirk helped him control the bleeding they could see, but they had to wait for Doctor McCoy to wake up to help him out with whatever was going on with Sam's leg. He really wanted to get this over with, have someone hit him upside the head with a big rock. Captain Kirk had insisted that was not a good idea at all, that they should all remain as conscious as possible to help each other if and when they needed to. Even though Kirk seemed relatively unharmed, no one knew what they had really given him. It could just be a delayed reaction or something. Sam was trying to keep himself focused on worrying about other things other than himself. Oh, and that girly scream he had emitted a moment ago. His stupid hip was just killing him!

"Tucker!"

Kirk had darted back to his position as if he was doing one of those field day events where the children would run the dashes, grabbing PADDs and transferring them to the line drawn on the floor opposite of their position. He always had a hard time with that one because his legs were so long, he could not stoop himself low enough to get to what he was aiming for in the first place. Namely, the PADDs, that is. Sam licked his lips and let out a breath, slow and steady. "Captain … I just … shifted on my hip. I did not mean to …" He cautioned a look over towards McCoy, who was sitting up and wincing. Even in this light he could see that McCoy was worried. He was bloodied and bruised, but he was also worried. "Sorry if I woke you, doctor." Sam managed a small smile, attempting to make some kind of light of their desperately dark and dank situation. If the Enterprise was going to save them, now would be a really, really good time because he was certain by now that he really needed to curl up on a medical bed in Sickbay for a really long week or so of solid recovery.

"_No … no harm, no … foul."_

McCoy sounded more tired than after a six hour operation. The poor man had a concussion, he heard Kirk mumbling to himself earlier while he was looking over his friend. The two guys in blue – or what was left of their blue uniform shirts – had a lot of things other than the obvious going on with them. Sam saw Bones try to make another move towards him to help, cursing under his breath when it hurt too much. Kirk rolled his eyes and went back to his friend, urging him not to move. McCoy, being the stubborn one he is, demanded Kirk move him towards Sam so the captain could at least keep his eye on both of them better. Sam figured it was just an ulterior motive so McCoy could try and look him over. Whatever it was seemed to have worked, though, because Kirk easily moved his friend. The two bickered for a moment, McCoy letting a few cuss words slip as he was situated against the wall near Sam's offending leg. The doctor reached out and gently prodded it, grumbling. The situation was already farther than just a simple 'not good', and he knew that. Not only his leg, but their entire situation. If McCoy was determined on the prodding, though, and the grumbling, Sam knew something was really wrong.

"_This is really not good. I'll have to get him to Sickbay immediately if he ever wants to walk again."_

That was the annoying McCoy way of not talking to the patient, of instead talking to the nurse – or in their case, Captain Kirk. The good captain waved the pair off, turning to look around their little cave again in hopes of a way out. Sam figured there was no communicator or anything. Hell, they were lucky to have the medical kit. Everything else had been taken – except their clothes they had on. Hopefully, though, McCoy would not have to practice any sort of backwoods twentieth century medicine on him while they were down here. Those patients tended to lose legs rather than keep them. That was really something Sam wanted to be thinking about this afternoon. He hummed to himself, just a steady note as he tried to calm his breathing and not move. If he moved again on his hip, he was going to scream like a little girl again. Screaming like a little girl again would not be good for Doctor McCoy's headache and the man was already a bear without his coffee in the mornings. Who knew what he would really be like with a concussion on top of everything else. Screaming like a girl again was out of the question.

Not to mention it was embarrassing enough the first time.


End file.
